


The Other Orion

by SMbookworm26



Category: Artemis Fowl - Eoin Colfer
Genre: Gen, coping methods, separated families, wrong place wrong time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2018-08-31 22:45:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8596708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SMbookworm26/pseuds/SMbookworm26
Summary: Orion Fowl fit every definition of a typical teenager: born & raised in a fairly normal house, had a fairly normal family, and attended a fairly normal school—with a lot of emphasis on the "fairly normal". But that was life then, life now was the complete opposite. It was time to put the past behind and focus on making new memories—in time. At present, she wasn't in the mood.





	1. Siege

**Book One**

  
Ryn wouldn't lie, she was pretty pissed.

It was around five in the morning and she was charging up the stairs, determined to drag her cousin out of bed and wring his neck enough to turn his face blue before Butler could separate them. She’d thought she and Artemis had an understanding, a mutual agreement, "you stay out of my business, I stay out of yours" sort of thing. It was why he didn't comment on her spending nine or ten hours a day playing video games in the basement or neglected to begin school, and why she didn't ask about Aunt Angeline or what he did since he _never_ seemed to be to be in school.

She _thought_ they did. Up until her level of Mario Kart had inexplicably frozen up. That was what—seven, eight hours of work? All down the drain.

Oh, _someone_ was going to answer for this.

Honestly, the only reason she was even up this time of night was because of a sudden ice cream craving that turned into a game binge that may've gone on a bit too long.

Regardless, Ryn had an impulsive nature, a really bad attitude, and a short, explosive temper. She stormed out of her basement hideaway and made her way to the set of stairs that led to the second floor, where she was sure her cousin's bedroom was. She had to consciously force herself to slow her pace so the heavy footsteps of her boots wouldn't alert anyone to her presence. She'd only been living in the manor for about a month, so her easily forgotten presence provided the advantage of surprise. Which she didn’t want to lose.

The manor wasn't familiar in any way: big, overly extravagant, and very expensive. Nothing like the modest three-room, single story Illinois house she'd been raised in. She had no desire to modern castle/prison fortress "home".

Rounding the corner, she was surprised to see she didn't have to climb the stairs. Artemis was already awake, and dressed too. He was descending down the stairs and heading for the front door. Ryn retraced her steps and hid in the corner behind the door, grateful her clothes blended in the dark. Ryn had an…interesting sense of fashion for a 12-year-old girl. Her combat boots, worn cargo pants, long-sleeved Bon Jovi t-shirt, and denim vest were all in shades of black ranging from angry storm cloud gray to faded biker jacket. She also still had on her gaming gloves—which were originally made for martial artist who didn’t want bloody knuckles. The only exception to her chosen color pallet was her hair, which was light blond and much longer than she usually liked. Though she managed to amend that with a few sets of black streaks running from the roots to the tips.

Artemis reached the foot of the stairs and paused momentarily at a mirror to straighten his tie before resuming his far-too-carefully-controlled pace and opening the door after only a brief hesitation.

"Good evening," he said. Ryn hated to admit it but she was impressed; her cousin could do evil almost as well as she could. Maybe they were related after all.

The figure at the door was about the size of the average four-year-old, but had the form of either a grandfather still working full-time or an army general overdue for retirement. He had his palms up in a pacifying matter.

"You're Fowl?" he asked. Ryn snorted slightly at the unintended pun.

"Artemis Fowl, at your service. And you are?"

"LEP Commander Root. Right, we know each other's names, so could we get on with this?"

"Certainly."

"Step outside then. Where I can see you."

Ryn rolled her eyes. Sure, step outside. Right into plain view of him and his backup (1,000 on Team Fortress 2 hadn't been for nothing). Artemis must've thought similarly.

"Have you learned nothing from my demonstrations? The ship? Your commandos? Do I need to kill someone?"

"No," Root said hurriedly. "I only—"

"You only meant to lure me outside, where I could be snatched and used to trade. Please, Commander Root, raise your game or send someone intelligent."

Not a bad line, Ryn thought. She'd have to remember to use it sometime.

"Now you listen to me you young…" Root exclaimed angrily, cheeks turning rosy. Not a grandfather then.

"Not very good negotiation techniques, Commander, to lose your cool before we even get to the table." She could practically see his sly smile.

Root took a few deep breaths before speaking again in measured tones. "Fine. Whatever you say. Where would you prefer to conduct our talks?"

"Inside, of course. You have my permission to enter, but remember, Captain Short's life is in your hands. Be careful with it."

Allowing an obvious unfriendly character into the house? And leave Artemis alone with him? Butler must be having a stroke.

The pair moved down a vaulted hallway and Ryn followed close behind.

Of all the places in the house, she hated this particular hallway the most. It was filled with large, creepy portraits of Fowls from generations past. Each one reminded her of her own family. There was one from the 18th century that had Dad's ears. Another from the late 19th or early 20th century had Isaac's nose.

She did her best to keep her eyes on the Commander's back.

Finally, the two passed through a large, fancily crafted doorway to a large conference room. Ryn remained outside, this time hidden behind a potted plant beside the open door, peeking through the crack between the hinges. Upon entering the room, Root's demeanor changed immediately. He pulled a half-chewed, mossy green cigar from his vest.

"Maybe you're not such a barbarian after all," he grunted, exhaling a huge cloud of green smoke.

Ryn rolled her eyes. One of the things she learned about her cousin was that even though he was evil, he was the sophisticated kind. It seemed to be a thing for his branch of the Fowl family tree—if you're gonna be a villain, be a classy one. Ryn, however, didn’t care much for class.

Root pulled out a flask from his hip pocket, poured a purple liquid that for all she knew could've been alien fluid into a glass, drank deeply, belched, and then sat down.

"Ready?" Artemis asked, shuffling his notes casually as he waited (which she’d learned was his way of pretending to be polite when he was really impatient or irritated). "Here is the situation as I see it. I have the means to expose your subterranean existence, and you are powerless to stop me. So, basically, whatever I ask for is a small price to pay."

As a fan of strategy and battle, Ryn didn't believe in being "powerless to stop something". There was always a way, provided one took the right initiative.

Root spat something. She guessed a shred of his mutant tobacco. "So you think you can just put all this information on the internet."

"Well, not immediately, not with the time-stop in effect."

Artemis said this casually, but Root choked on a lungful of smoke and Ryn's right eyebrow arched up, intrigued. Her Mario Kart game was a multiplayer she'd been having with her friends back home. If time had stopped at the manor, it'd explain why her game had frozen.

"Well, if you know about the time-stop, you must also know that you are completely cut off from the outside world." Root said seriously. "You are, in effect, powerless." Ryn had to hand it to the Commander; he'd definitely done this before. It was a weak point—after all, Artemis had Butler—but still a good one.

"Let's save some time here. I grow weary of your clumsy bluffs." Artemis said, not looking up from the legal pad he was scribbling on. "In the case of an abduction, the LEP will first send a crack Retrieval team to get back what has been lost. You have done so. Excuse me while I titter. Crack team? Honestly. A Cub Scout patrol armed with water pistols could have defeated them."

 _Sure, if those cubs were six-foot black belts and their pistols were filled with gasoline_. Ryn didn’t know what crack team her cousin was referring to, but she still itched to deliver the remark. Idly wondered if Artemis put forth a conscious effort to annoy people or if it just came naturally.

"The next official step is negotiation. And finally, when the eight-hour time limit is about to run out, and if no solution can be reached, a bio-bomb is detonated, contained by the time-field."

 _Bio-bomb_. Ryn made note of the word to look up later in her vast mental reserves of fictitious weaponry. Though the name alone gave her a pretty clear idea.

"You appear to know an awful lot about us, Master Fowl. I don't suppose you'll tell me how?"

"Correct."

Hm. Quick, short, and to the point. She used a similar method when she used cheat codes or looked up how-to's but didn't want to tell other players.

Root mashed his cigar into the fancy-looking ashtray. "So, let's have it, what are your demands?"

"One demand. Singular." Artemis replied as he slid the legal pad across the too shiny table. Root read aloud, as if knowing she was there.

"'One ton of twenty-four-carat gold. Small unmarked ingots only.' You can't be serious."

"Oh, but I am."

Ryn was every bit as surprised as the Commander. Partially by the demand itself—currency was easy to forge these days, especially for someone with Artemis’s resources—but also the fact that it was so precise. She had a feeling that her cousin had been planning this awhile.

It also reminded her of the supposed Fowl family motto, _Aurum Potestas Est_. Ryn didn't like it. She'd been raised by a single parent with three older brothers, she was used to money being a nonrenewable, precious resource. And a motto like "Gold is Power" made it sound like that was all anyone in her father's family cared about.

Root leaned forward. "Don't you see? Your position is untenable. Either you give us back Captain Short or we will be forced to kill you all. There is no middle ground. We don't negotiate. Not really. I'm just here to explain the facts to you."

Ryn smiled. Scare tactics. Cute.

"Oh, but you will negotiate with me, Commander." Artemis replied slyly.

"Oh, really? And what makes you so special?"

"I am special, because I know how to escape the time-field."

Ryn listened for lies. But it was too hard to say—Artemis was her cousin, and she knew by now that he could bluff as well as she could.

"Impossible," snorted Root. "Can't be done."

"Oh, yes it can. Trust me, I haven't been wrong yet."

Root tore off the page detailing the demand, folding it into his pocket.

"I'll have to think about this."

"Take your time. We have eight hours…excuse me, seven and a half hours, then time's up for everybody."

Both parties were silent for awhile. The only sound being Root's tapping fingernails. At one point he took a breath to say something, then seemed to think better of it and abruptly stood.

"We'll be in touch. Don't worry, I'll see myself out."

Artemis stood as well.

"You do that. But remember this, none of your race has permission to enter here while I'm alive."

Root stalked out the room, up the hallway, and out the door—glaring at the ancient portraits the whole way. Artemis was soon on his way out as well, assumingly back up to his study. He didn't notice his cousin's hiding place even as she rose from behind the plant.

"Well _you've_ been busy, haven't you?"

Artemis instantly turned on his heels, wide-eyed to meet his cousin's amused grin.


	2. Mulch

Artemis had glued himself to the monitors, desperately trying to tune out his cousin's chatter.

"You know, if this operation sticks to tradition, then this is about the part where everything goes wrong for the bad guys. The third act." Orion said, using her black-painted nails to illustrate her point, her feet propped up on Artemis's desk. "Gossiping with their hostages, lighting a couple cigarettes, maybe even having a premature glass of wine. Bottom line: they relax. Suddenly, bam! They're kissing the floor with a dozen guns pointed at their backs.

"But hey, that hasn't happened yet and I'm not complaining. We have the same last name,  which means everybody's going to assume we're in the same boat. That reminds me: when this goes south, I'm feeding you to the sharks."

Artemis briefly tore his gaze from the monitors to his cousin. The blond girl sitting in his chair met his gaze evenly, her eyes as dark and chilled as his.

He returned to the monitors, trying to refocus his thoughts. No doubt the fairies were reviewing the tapes of their first negotiating session, searching for anything that would give them a way in. Well, it was there all right. All they had to do was look. Buried just deep enough to look accidental.

It was possible that Commander Root would try another ruse. He was a wily one, no doubt about it. One who would not take kindly to being bested by a child. He would bear watching.

Artemis repressed both a scowl and a shiver at the same time. The shiver from the mere thought of Root and the scowl from allowing Orion's words to sink into his thoughts. He inspected the monitors again.

Juliet was still in the kitchen, scrubbing at the sink. Washing the vegetables.

Captain Short was on her bunk. Quiet as the grave. No more bed banging. Perhaps he had been wrong about her. Perhaps there was no plan.

Butler stood at his post outside Holly's cell. Odd. He should have been on his rounds by now. Artemis grabbed a walkie-talkie.

"Butler?"

"Roger, base. Receiving."

"Shouldn't you be on your rounds?"

There was a pause. "I am, Artemis. Patrolling the main landing. Coming up on the safe room. I'm waving at you right now."

Artemis glanced at the landing cameras. Deserted. From every angles. Definitely no waving manservant. He studied the monitors, counting under his breath… There! Every ten seconds, a slight jump. On every screen.

"A loop!" he cried. He would've jumped from his seat if he weren't already standing. "They're feeding us a loop!"

Over the speaker, he could hear Butler's pace accelerate to a run.

"The safe room!"

Artemis's stomach knotted into a queasy ball. Duped! He, Artemis Fowl, had been duped, even though he'd known it was coming. Inconceivable. It was arrogance that had done it. His own blinding arrogance, and now the entire plan could collapse around his ears.

Throughout all this Orion herself remained silent, now Artemis found her standing next to him.

"You're just _now_ noticing that?" She asked, voice teeming with incredulity that may or may not have been genuine. "Some genius."

Artemis stared at her incredulity. 

He switched the walkie-talkie to Juliet's band.

"Juliet?"

"Receiving."

"Where are you right now?"

"In the kitchen. Wrecking my nails on this grater."

"Leave it, Juliet. Check on the prisoner."

"But, Artemis, the carrot sticks will dry out!"

"Leave it, Juliet!" shouted Artemis. "Drop everything and check on the prisoner!"

Juliet obediently dropped everything, including the walkie-talkie. She'd sulk for days now.

"You're very bossy." Orion piqued.

Artemis rounded on her. "Why didn't you say anything?!" He half-shouted.

"Didn't think I had to. I mean, come on that's one of the first things I noticed about you."

"No, about the loop!"

"Well, why didn't you ask me?"

Artemis groaned, exasperated. He turned back to the control panel and depressed the master switch on the computerized surveillance system. His only chance of purging the loop was a complete reboot. After several agonizing moments of screen snow, the monitors jumped and settled. Things were not as they had seemed only seconds before.

There was a grotesque _thing_ in the safe room. It had apparently discovered the secret compartment. Not only that but it had managed to open the whisper lock. Amazing. Butler had it covered though. He was sneaking up behind the creature, and any moment now the intruder would find itself nose down in the carpet.

Artemis switched his attention to Holly. The elf was back to bed banging. Slamming the frame down over and over again, as though she could…

It hit Artemis then, like a blast from a water cannon. If Holly had somehow smuggled an acorn in here, then one square centimeter of ground would be enough. If Juliet left that door open…

"Juliet!" he shouted into the walkie-talkie. "Juliet! Don't go in there!"

But it was useless. The girl's walkie-talkie lay buzzing on the kitchen floor, and Artemis could only watch helplessly as Butler's sister strode toward the cell door, muttering about carrots.

Instead, he turned back to his cousin, only to find she was no longer there. He was alone in the room.

_ Finally _ .

* * *

Ryn spent almost all of her time staring at screen of some sort. So one would think she'd be quite content to watch the sure-to-come drama from one.

Nope.

If anything, it made her want to experience the drama, up close and personal, even more.

As fun as Juliet’s situation would've been, she liked the older girl too much for her good. Besides, her brother was closer.

The bodyguard was currently up against the door to what Artemis called "the safe room", a palm up against the wood. Ryn was about three or four feet behind him, hidden by his concentration.

Butler opened the door, soundless on its overly-oiled hinges. A second or two passed. Then something exploded from the room. It looked to be gas clogged with dark semi-solids—but all Ryn could be certain of was that it smelled terrible.

Butler was flung off his feet, into the air, and slammed into the wall—quite impressive, actually.

What Ryn couldn't have known was that as the man lost consciousness he prayed Artemis hadn't managed to capture the moment on video. He hadn't, not with the monitors currently being rebooted. Unfortunately, that prayer didn't apply to a certain blond girl. Particularly one with a camera on her mobile phone.

Ryn had hit the RECORD button the exact moment the manservant opened the door. It was a good piece of footage, and she knew she'd have to go to great lengths to keep it.

Then she caught a brief glimpse of the short, stout creature responsible for the moment and raced down the stairs, an idea sparking to life in her brain.

* * *

Mulch buttoned his back flap, which had been blasted open by the gale emanating from his nether regions. Time to make a run for it. Whatever hope he'd had of escaping undiscovered had been blown. Literally.

Mulch retrieved his earpiece, screwing it firmly into his ear. Well, you never knew, even the LEP might prove useful.

"…And when I get my hands on you convict, you'll wish you stayed down in those mines…"

Mulch sighed. Ah well. Nothing new there then.

Clasping the safe's treasure tightly in his fist, the dwarf turned to retrace his steps. To his utter amazement there was a human entangled in the banisters. It wasn't because his recyclings had hurled the elephantine Mud Man several yards through the air, but the fact that the man had managed to get so close to him in the first place.

"You're good," said Mulch, wagging a finger at the unconscious bodyguard. "But nobody takes a body blow from Mulch Diggums and stays on their feet."

The Mud Man stirred, the whites of his eyes showing beneath fluttering lids.

Root's voice crackled in the dwarf's ears. "Get a move on, Mulch _Diggums_ , before that Mud Man gets up and rearranges your innards. He took out an entire Retrieval team, you know."

Mulch swallowed, his bravado suddenly deserting him.

"An _entire_ Retrieval team? Maybe I should get back underground…for the good of the mission."

Skipping hurriedly around the groaning bodyguard, Mulch took the steps two at a time. No point in worrying about being quiet anymore.

He was about halfway back to the cellar when his left foot suddenly shot out from underneath him, hoisting him into the air.

"I can't believe you didn't see that," said a human standing in a darkened corner of the room, this one a young female—American from her accent—nearly invisible aside from her pale yellow hair.

Mulch silently agreed and pouted over missing the painfully obvious rope trap in his haste to get away. The girl stepped out to approach him; she was short and fairly slim, but dressed in dark, punk-like attire, had three pairs of black stripes in her light hair, and two eyelids caked with matching eye shadow.

"How's it hangin'?" she asked humorously before smirking at the pun.

He was gathering a witty retort when a figure shimmered into focus behind her, a fairy-sized figure launching itself at her back. Still smirking, the girl nimbly twirled out of the way like a ballet dancer, leaving the charging fairy to crash into the wooden floor before her.

She chuckled again—half amusingly and half cruelly—and clapped her hands. "Oh, that was fun, let's do that again." She said, "You're Captain Short, I'm guessing?"

Mulch was surprised to see his arresting officer from the Renaissance Masters smuggling case, whom he recognized even when hanging upside down five feet in the air. Holly got back onto her feet and turned to face the strange human.

"Alright, you got me." She admitted angrily, "now I suppose you want _another_ ton of gold for our release?"

The girl snorted. "I'm not in this for money, that's Artemis's game. In fact, if it were up to me I'd have you both get the heck out of here."

Holly started. Was she really…

"Ah ah ah," the girl exclaimed at her look. "I don't know how fairy laws work, but I'm pretty sure that in order to get permission to _leave_ a house you have to get it from someone who actually _lives_ in the house. I have a packed suitcase and still get lost looking for a bathroom; it's safe to say I don't qualify."

Holly's shoulders slumped in disappointment.

"Wait, if you're not interested in money, why hold me?" Mulch piqued, getting nervous from the series of sharp sounds drifting down from the upper landing. It was either a troll thrashing around in a crystal emporium, or the Mud Man getting up.

The girl raised an eyebrow, returning her attention to him. She opened her mouth to reply when something on the floor caught her eye, something that'd slipped out of Mulch's hand when his foot got snagged.

"Well, what's this?" The girl only half rhetorically asked, picking up the small volume and flipping through the tiny pages.

Holly's eyes widened. A copy of the Book! No wonder they were in such a fix. They were playing into his hands the whole time.

The mysterious girl looked back up at her hostages, "I take it neither of you are going to tell me. But if it's all the same I think I'll hold onto this, it looks like good blackmail material." With that she tucked the Book into the left breast pocket of her vest. The right pocket was already occupied by her phone. Where it was secured by hand-sewn in elastic straps in the exact position for the small camera on its face to be centered on the frayed hole where she'd ripped out the button.

"By the way," she began again, drawing a small switchblade from her jean pocket, "I'm not kidnapping you. I just wanted to give Butler a fair chance." She withdrew the blade and used it to cut Mulch's rope from its counterweight.

The instant he hit the floor, he sprinted to the cellar, the rope soon flying off his large foot. No sooner did he reach it than the giant manservant flew down the steps. Holly disappeared out of the visible spectrum while Ryn simply sidestepped out of his way, flashing the man a mock salute as he passed. She grinned again and moved to follow him when the fairy's disjointed voice drifted from seemingly nowhere.

"Who are you?"

The girl caught the haze, like heat coming off a grill, and looked straight at it.

"You know Artemis Fowl—bossy know-it-all, overdresses 24/7?" She said, "Think of me as his evil twin." And then she turned to the cellar, following the bodyguard.

* * *

Ryn hid behind the doorframe, her still-running phone pointed at Butler's crouching frame. She was glad she followed him, this was gonna be good.

Butler looked to be kneeling over a hole in the cellar floor—how it got there, she had no idea. Besides, she was only making that assumption based on the voice that drifted up from it.

"Egg go," it said. The mumbled open-mouthed tone brought back small snippets of memories from home.

Zak trying to talk to someone—anyone—from the dentist's chair, even managing to be somewhat understandable. Dad rushing out into the living room with his toothbrush still in his mouth when _someone_ did _something_ disruptive.

She slammed the door on the flashbacks.

"Not a chance," Butler said. "The only way you're leaving this house is in a body bag."

Ryn refocused on her phone, grateful for Butler's wisecrack. She wondered if the big man was joking, it was a natural assumption, but with him it was impossible to tell. Was she _could_ tell was that Butler was struggling to get the small, hairy figure she'd previously trapped out of his escape tunnel.

"Come on, you little goblin. Out of there." He muttered. Suddenly he froze and fell silent. "Oh…"

Ryn took the expletive as a cue to duck down and conceal herself. Good thing too, because the compacted clay missile that shot from the space Butler's head had previously been would've hit her were she even a few inches higher. She kept her camera pointed to the inside of the room—something she would appreciate later when she viewed the footage of Butler spun around fast enough to give him whiplash.

With that finale, Ryn retracted her camera arm, stopped the recording, and snuck away from the scene before the mammoth bodyguard could notice her presence.


	3. Troll

Ryn re-appeared back in the study—much to her cousin's displeasure. By the time Butler joined them, it’d seemed as if she'd never left—not that he stuck around to find out otherwise.

No sooner had the bodyguard rushed out to check on his sister than the familiar barbeque-heat-haze slipped into through the still-closing door.

Fortunately, they were both ready for her.

"Good evening, Captain Short. At the risk of sounding clichéd, I've been expecting you." Artemis said from behind his desk, his funky sunglasses covering his eyes.

"Booooooo!" Ryn said from her spot on the stainless steel workbench bolted to the far wall.

"You are, of course, still bound by the promises made earlier tonight…" Artemis continued, but it was a moot point. At Ryn's not-unusually-snide comment, Holly promptly dropped her shield and strode over to the workbench, where the girl was examining one of the fairy helmets Butler had taken earlier.

"So, basically, our situation hasn't changed. You are still my hostage."

Holly stopped before Ryn and held her hand out expectantly. She was mostly just listening to the radio signal—which was apparently broadcasting on revolving frequencies—when Holly came over. Ryn took one look at her, murmured a couple more lines of alien gibberish into the tiny microphone, and handed it over. The elf slipped the stealth-coated helmet over her pointed ears, after that her eyes lost focus listening to the radio broadcast.

"Something I should know?" said Artemis.

"Quiet," Holly hissed.

"Okay, first of all it's _we_ , "something _we_ should know"." Ryn said to her cousin as Holly spoke to her helmet's recipient in some language or another. "Second, the answer to that your question is _so_ obvious why do you even bother asking? Really, what sort of genius are you?"

Artemis narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth to reply, but turned his attention to Holly at the last second. "It's not polite, you know. Ignoring your host."

“Speak for yourself.”

Holly snarled. "Enough is enough."

She pulled back her fist, fingers curled into a tight bunch. Artemis didn't flinch. Why would he? Butler always inter—

"Butler's not here." Ryn chimed.

Before Artemis's eyes had time to widen, Holly put an extra few pounds of spring in her elbow and whacked her abductor right on the nose.

_ Click _ . Ryn chuckled softly as she looked at the picture on her phone. _Holly's a little blurry but not bad. This is_ so _going on the internet_. She thought.

"D'Arvit," Holly said, or swore based on her tone. Ryn want sure if it was English, but she filed it under the 'forbidden words' section of her brain anyway.

"You hit me," Artemis said in disbelief, propping up onto his elbows.

"You're _just_ now realizing—how are you considered a genius?" Ryn said.

On a good day, Artemis may've been able to deliver a witty remark. But that demanded a certain level social skill and personal understanding of his cousin—neither of which he currently possessed. So when he opened his mouth, waiting for his brain to supply the customary pithy comeback, nothing arrived.

Holly slipped the Neutrino 2000 into its holster and stepped between them.

"Alright, Mud Kids. Playtime's over. Time for the professionals to take over. If you're both good, I'll buy you each a lollipop when I come back."

And when both Holly and Ryn were long gone, one soaring beneath the hallway's ancient oak beams and the other God knows where, Artemis said, "I don't like lollipops."

It was a woefully inadequate response and Artemis was instantly appalled with himself, the howls of witch-like cackling emanating from the other side of the door doing little to ease the shock. Pathetic really: _I don't like lollipops_. No self-respecting criminal mastermind would be caught dead even using the word lollipops. He really would have to put together a database of witty responses for occasions such as this, especially if Ryn was to be involved in them.

It was quite possible that Artemis would have sat like that for some time, totally detached from the situation at hand, had not the front door imploded, shaking the manor to its foundations. A thing like that is enough to knock the daydreams from anyone's head—but at least the cackling stopped.

* * *

Butler took the stairs four at a time. It was possibly the first time he had ever abandoned Master Artemis in a time of crisis—and with his wild card of a cousin no less. But Juliet was family, and there was obviously something seriously wrong with his baby sister. That fairy had said something to her, and now she was just sitting in the cell giggling. Butler feared the worst. If anything were to happen to Juliet, he didn't know how he'd live with himself.

He felt a dribble of sweat slide down the crown of his shaven head. This whole situation was shooting off in bizarre directions. Fairies, magic, and now a hostage loose in the manor—all without the Orion Factor. How could he be expected to control thing? It took a four-man team to guard the lowliest politician, but he was expected to contain this impossible situation on his own.

Butler sprinted down the corridor into what had until recently been Captain Short's cell. Juliet was sprawled on the cot. Enraptured by a concrete wall.

"What are you doing?" he gasped, drawing the Sig Sauer nine-millimeter with practiced ease.

His sister barely spared him a glance. "Quiet, you big ape. Louie the Love Machine is on. He ain't so tough, I could take him."

Butler blinked. She was talking gibberish. Obviously drugged.

"Let's go. Artemis wants us upstairs in the situation room."

Juliet pointed a manicured finger at the wall.

"Artemis can wait. This is for the intercontinental title. And it's a grudge match. Louie ate the Hogman's pet piggy."

The manservant studied the wall. It was definitely blank. He didn't have time for this.

"Right. Let's go," he growled, slinging his sister over a broad shoulder.

" _Nooo!_ You big bully," she protested, hammering his back with tiny fists. "Not now. Hogman! Hogmaaaan!"

Butler ignored the objections, settling into a loping run. Who the hell was this Hogman person? One of her boyfriends no doubt. He was going to keep closer tabs on callers to the lodge in the future.

"Butler? Pick up."

It was Artemis, on the handheld. Butler jiggled his sister up a foot so he could reach his belt.

"Lollipops!" barked his employer.

"Say again. I thought you said—"

"He said lollipops, you heard right."

And that would be Orion.

Artemis sputtered for a second, seeming too angry to form words, before his cousin apparently decided to show mercy and answered. "Juliet left her walkie-talkie in the kitchen. You were saying?"

"Eh…Butler, get out of there. Take cover! Take cover!"

Take cover? The military term didn't sound right coming out of Master Artemis's mouth. Like a diamond ring in a lucky bag.

"Take cover?"

"Yes, Butler. Cover. I thought speaking in primal terms would be the quickest route to your cognitive functions. Obviously I was mistaken."

"Well aren't you a little ray of sunshine?"

That was more like it. Butler scanned the hall for a nook to duck into as Artemis and Orion continued to quarrel over the handheld. Not many options. The only shelter was provided by the suits of medieval armor punctuating the walls. The manservant ducked into the alcove behind a fourteenth-century knight, hissing into the handheld to get the two to quiet down.

Juliet tapped the breastplate.

"You think you're mean? I could take you with one hand."

"Quiet," Butler hissed.

He held his breath and listened. Something was approaching the main door. Something big. Butler leaned out far enough to get one eye on the lobby…

Then you could say that the doorway exploded. But that particular verb doesn't do the action justice. Rather, it shattered into infinitesimal pieces. Butler had seen something like this once before when a force-seven earthquake had rippled through a Colombian drug lord's estate seconds before he had been scheduled to blow it up. This was slightly different. More localized. Very professional. It was classic anti-terrorist tactics. Hit 'em with smoke and sonics, then go in while the targets were disoriented. Whatever was coming, it would be bad. He was certain of it. He was absolutely right.

Ryn was thinking along the same lines as she surveyed the damage from the kitchen doorway. The thick dust clouds instinctively set her on edge. It was an old instinct originating from Zak's childhood asthma. He'd inherited it and his green eyes from their Mom while she and Isaac had both gotten her blond hair and Dad's dark blue eyes, which were apparently a Fowl thing.

Ryn was ecstatic when the large dark shadow moved in the settling dust—those thoughts were too dangerous to dwell on. Whatever was moving looked like a cross between a gorilla and a bear. With red eyes. And tusks. And…dreadlocks?

The D&D monster wannabe sauntered into the living room, squinting despite the dim light (note: likely subterranean) and scraping its long yellow claws along the probably too-expensive marble tiles. It snorted, sniffing for a moment before honing in on a trail (note: acute olfactory senses). In one of her roleplaying games, she'd worry about the whatever-it-is finding her—as that usually led to a quick charge followed by a battle she had very little chance of winning. But it seemed that the scent the mutant Frankenstein hybrid had found was the closer Butler's.

Ryn know it was going to charge once it honed in on a scent—which is why she chose that moment to duck away from the doorway, feeling the too-old-to-be-in-a-house suit of armor vibrate against her spine as it hit the other side of the wall. She heard, vaguely, Juliet say something about Bigfoot before the most-likely-Butler-gunfire went off.

_ Bigfoot. Random analogy, but accurate. _ Ryn thought as she rushed back into the kitchen.

* * *

Ryn was disappointed when she poked her head back into the landing. In the short time she'd been gone, Holly had been buried under a carpet-like tapestry, with Butler crumpled just a couple feet from her. Either this thing was tougher than it seemed or Butler and Holly weren't as good as they thought they were.

Ryn decided to give the big guy the benefit of the doubt and say it was a bit of both.

But she supposed that wasn't important right now. With the major players down Bigfoot (as she dubbed him) was turning back to Juliet. The second the troll aligned one of its sickly yellow talons with an artery in her neck was the second Ryn decided she like the older girl _way_ too much for her own good. At that second Bigfoot was distracted from the vein by the sharp clink made by the small object Ryn hurled into the room as it bounced off the floor. The object she'd thrown, or rather made, was basically a stink bomb mounted on top of a battery-operated toy car with a mini siren on top of it. Bright light, loud noise, and stink, the perfect things to distract a cave-dweller with a sensitive nose.

After the second bounce the little device settled on the floor, and at that instant the high-pitched whining and multi-colored lights switched into 'high' mode and the yellow-green gas poured out of the sides in thick puffs. Above the siren, however, was the alien-pitched shriek no one would expect to come from a creature that size.

Ryn smirked broadly. In her month-long gaming binge since she'd come to Fowl Manor, she'd forgotten the joy of a simple prank.

But she wasn't done yet. Immediately after the lights and gas the wheels came on, twirling around in circles at Bigfoot's feet. He was so disoriented that his clumsy swipes at the device were clear by half a foot.

Almost as an afterthought, Ryn grabbed a heavy glass bottle with a gold label from the table next to her. Even though she knew next to nothing about wine or champagne or whatever it was, she guessed from the 1920s date that it was _pretty_ expensive.

She peaked back out the doorway, waited until Bigfoot's back was to her, and then moved. 

She ran full speed into the room, expertly hopped onto a coffee table in her path on the balls of her feet, and then used her remaining momentum and the spring from her curled legs to hurl herself up and forward, landing squarely on Bigfoot's back.

Ryn realized, later, that what she'd just done could be considered a gymnastics move—making it her first in almost eight years. But at that moment she was too busy getting a grip on Bigfoot's dreadlocked hair-fur.

The troll instantly felt her impact and rounded on its feet to try to throw her off before bucking once. Ryn, however, was grateful for the buck, it gave her the leverage she needed to haul herself into a sitting position and throw her legs over Bigfoot's shoulders. 

Any other girl would've locked their ankles over the troll's neck, it secured their position and gave them the opportunity to choke the creature out. But Ryn was 12 years old, not even five feet tall, and only weighed about a hundred pounds. She wasn't going to rely on her own physical strength, not in this situation, not against this creature. That is why she instead drove her heels into Bigfoot's armpits at an angle that forced her knees into the sides of the big guy's neck.

This time the troll reached over his shoulder to grab her as it had Holly and toss her off, which is when Ryn leaned over the _opposite_ shoulder and smashed the swiped wine bottle right in his face. For this purpose Ryn would've preferred something more like rubbing alcohol, but when the bottle shattered the semi-alcoholic beverage still did the job of rendering Bigfoot temporarily blind. And agitated no less.

The troll roared again, twisting and bucking fiercely in a desperate attempt to throw the tiny human latched on its back off.

_ Guess I should've considered a career as a bull rider more thoroughly _ , Ryn thought. For the most part she held on pretty well and managed to get her torso moving in a wave-like fashion that prevented her from getting whiplash. A method not so much skill-based improvisation as it was learned habit from years of riding a mechanical bull at her favorite pizza place back home. All the while pulling Bigfoot's long, greasy dreads to a certain spot in the room.

Then, right on time, she saw the too-big-to-be-anyone-else figure in the corner of her eye. In a second, she removed her feet from Bigfoot's shoulder joints, placed them side by side on the nape of his neck, and sprung up to the ceiling, where she promptly entangled herself in the overhead chandelier.

The troll swung at her heels in an attempt to grab her, paying no attention to the large human human behind it. 

Butler closed his visor, twirling the mace in his hand as though it were a cheerleader's baton before ramming it home between the troll's shoulder blades. A blow like that, while not fatal, certainly distracted the troll from its target.

Butler planted his foot just above the creature's haunches and tugged the weapon free. It relinquished its grip with a sickly sucking sound. He skipped backward, settling into a defensive stance.

The troll rounded on him, all ten talons sliding out to their full extent. Drops of venom glistened from the tip of each tusk. Playtime was over. But there would be no lightning strike this time. The beast was wary, it had been hurt and was still reeling from its last attack. This latest attacker would be afforded the same respect as another male of the species. As far as the troll was concerned, his territory was being encroached on. And there was only one way of solving a dispute of this nature. The same way that trolls solved every dispute…

Ryn, for the most part, simply enjoyed the perfect birds-eye-view provided by the chandelier. With her phone running of course.

"I must warn you," said Butler, straight-faced. "I am armed and prepared to use deadly force if necessary."

Ryn genuinely couldn't tell if Butler was playing good cop and giving Bigfoot a legitimate warning, or if he was just creating a diversion. Once again she decided to give the big guy the benefit of the doubt.

"Step away from the females. Easy, now."

The troll inflated its cheeks and roared. Scare tactics. Classic monster move. Butler didn't flinch and Ryn hardly blinked.

"Yeah, yeah. Real scary. Now just back out of the door and I won't have to cut you into little pieces."

Even someone lacking Ryn's dark sense of humor could see how backward the statement sounded.

"One step at a time. Nice and slow. Easy there, big fellow."

Ryn looked over at Bigfoot, there it was. It was subtle but it was there, that small flicker of uncertainty.

Then Butler snapped forward. He danced under the tusks, hammering home a devastating uppercut with his medieval weapon. The troll staggered backward, talons flailing wildly. But it was too late—Butler had stepped out of reach, scooting across to the other side of the corridor.

Bigfoot lumbered after the man, spitting shards of fanged teeth from crushed gums. Butler slid on his knees on the overly-polished floor before rising and turning back to the troll.

"Guess what I found?" he said, raising the Sig Sauer.

Ryn wasn't 100% sure what she was expecting when Butler fired nearly a dozen shots into, or _at_ she supposed, Bigfoot's head. But she knew she didn't expect the mammoth creature to drop dead, somehow all those years of playing countless fantasy games had cemented the idea that such creatures couldn’t feld by simple guns. At the same time, she also wasn't expecting to be right.

That is why she was surprised when Bigfoot responded to the shots by stumbling around dizzily and beating his own forehead. The sight, surprisingly, brought back a memory of when Zak came back obscenely late the night of his first high school party drunker than snot. A fly had been buzzing around his head, making him, in his state, repeatedly slap himself trying to hit it.

The sudden wave of sympathy was _not_ something she expected when she stormed out of the basement some seven hours earlier, especially not with something like Bigfoot. She couldn't help it though. Against her better judgment this thing now had an association with her lazy, passive rebellious, bat-crap crazy older brother. The one who knew all the answers to every test but refused to do homework of any kind. Who was dexterous enough to paint a landscape with his feet but couldn't run straight unless it was a life-or-death situation. Who…looked a lot like Artemis now that she thought about it.

Ryn was so wrapped up in her mental episode that she _completely_ missed Butler's nerve point-takedown routine—something she'd rat on herself about that later until she remembered the recording on her phone. 

There was a sharp click as Butler loaded a fresh clip into his handgun.

"Let's see how much bone you have under your chin."

"No," an out-of-breath voice said. Twisting her head, Ryn saw it was Holly. "Don't."

When Butler didn't respond, probably because he was busy getting the gun in place under Bigfoot's chin, she tried again.

"Don't do it…You owe me."

Ryn didn't hear a shot. She twisted back to look back at Butler. He was fingering the trigger but it didn't look like he would pull it. Ryn hoped not, aside from the weird Zak connection, she was right on top of them and would prefer not to deal with the mess.

"You owe me, human."

Butler sighed, but lowered the gun.

"Very well, Captain. The beast lives to fight another day. Lucky for him, I'm in a good mood."

Holly made a noise. It was somewhere between a whimper and a chuckle.

"Now let's get rid of our hairy friend."

Butler rolled the unconscious troll onto an armored trolley, dragging it to the devastated doorway. With a huge heave, he jettisoned the lot into the suspended night.

"And don't come back," he shouted.

With that line, Ryn's I-do-what-I-want-to-Hell-with-the-consequences nature returned. She let out an airy version of her witch cackle. Recycling her old prank routines, real-life bull riding, and _emotions_ for crying out loud. She had more going on for her in this one night than the last three weeks!

"Man, if I knew you guys did this kind of stuff on your little missions I would've stuck my nose into your business a long time ago."

Butler came back over to Ryn's position, stone-faced as ever.

"I don't doubt that. Now, why don't we get you down from there?"


	4. Ace in the Hole

Artemis tried the doorknob and got a scorched palm for his trouble. Sealed. The fairy must have blasted it with her weapon. Very astute. One less variable in the equation. It was exactly what he himself would have done.

Artemis did not waste any time attempting to force open the door. It was reinforced steel, and he was twelve. You didn't have to be a genius to figure it out, even though he was. Instead the Fowl heir apparent crossed to the monitor wall and followed developments from there.

He knew immediately what the LEP were up to—send in the troll to secure a cry for help, interpret it was an invitation, and next thing you know a brigade of goblin storm troopers were taking the manor. Clever. And unanticipated. It was the second time he'd underestimated his opponents. One way or another, there wouldn't be a third.

Artemis was surprised, however, to learn that they were the only ones he'd underestimated. Orion had analyzed weaknesses in the troll in record time, and caught a few that he himself missed. He also hadn't expected her to be aerodynamically competent. It occurred to Artemis then that his cousin may be just as clever as he was. That coupled with her unexpected athletic ability meant that if she didn't return to her usual activities after tonight, as he doubted she would, things were going to get very interesting around Fowl Manor.

* * *

Ryn remained on the main floor while Butler went upstairs to fetch Artemis. The room still stunk badly and likely would for the rest of the night. She both dreaded and eagerly anticipated what her cousin had to say about that. While Artemis talked like he was seventy years old, he was considerably fun to piss off.

That was another thing to add to her list of things she hadn't expected: her joy at tormenting Artemis. The only other people that'd ever happened with were Murray, Zak, and…Isaac.

Another unexpected thing, how often this place made her dwell on dangerous thoughts. Figures. The manor was enormous, and beautiful, but shallow in its magnificence. The same went for Artemis. As brilliant as he was, he was also spoiled.

She knew she was probably being too harsh. After all, growing up in a place like this Artemis probably knew few, if _any_ , people their age. It didn't take a psychologist to see how badly that could mess a kid up. 

At that moment she spotted Holly, hovering about twenty feet above her.

"If it makes you feel any better, I'm gonna give him hell for this!" She shouted up to the fairy.

There were advantages to being a pessimist. You were seldom disappointed and often surprised.

" _Orion_ , would you care to explain what that _putrescent_ odor is?!"

* * *

Holly hovered beneath the portico. Orange shards of light striped the blue. The time-stop was breaking up. There were only minutes left before Root blue-rinsed the whole place. Foaly's voice buzzed in her earpiece.

"Okay, Captain Short. The gold is on the way. Be ready to move."

"We don't bargain with kidnappers," said Holly, surprised. "What's going on here?"

"It’s a _stink_ bomb Artemis, how do you fail to comprehend this?"

"Nothing," replied Foaly casually. "Straight forward exchange. The gold goes in, you come out. We send in the missile. Big blue bang, and it's all over."

"Is there a particular reason couldn't have used a simple smoke screen?"

"Does Fowl know about the bio-bomb?" Holly asked.

"Okay, a) that would've impaired my vision as much as his, which b) would've been twice as bad for me, and c) _why_ even bother asking? The whole scenario's ridiculous."

"Yep. Knows all about it. Claims he can escape the time-field." Foaly answered.

"…"

"That's impossible."

"Correct."

"…"

"But they'll all be killed!"

"…How long will the smell last?"

"Big deal," retorted Foaly, and Holly could almost see him shrug. "That's what you get when you mess with the People."

"Anywhere from a couple days to a few weeks."

Holly was torn. There was no doubt that the Fowls were a danger to the civilized underworld. Very few tears would be shed over either body. But the other girl, Juliet—she was an innocent. She deserved a chance.

Holly descended to an altitude of six and a half feet. Head height for Butler. The humans had congregated in the wreckage that used to be a hallway. Even without overhearing the argument between the Fowl twins she could sense the disunity among them. Artemis was glaring at his apparent sister, jaw clenched and fists balled. While the girl in question, appropriately named Orion, was casually leaning against the banister.

Holly fired her own accusing glare at Artemis. "Have you told them?"

Artemis dropped his glare and returned her stare, abruptly calm. "Told them what?"

"Yes, Fairy, told us what?" echoed Juliet belligerently, still a bit miffled over the _mesmer_ izing. 

Ryn said nothing, only raised a nearly invisible eyebrow, a mix of curiosity and annoyance flashing in her eyes.

"Don't play dumb Fowl. You know what I'm talking about."

"Oh, he's not playing. He only likes people to think he is."

Artemis could never play dumb for very long, and in this case he didn't have the option. "Yes, Captain Short. I do. The bio-bomb. Your concern would be touching, if it extended to myself. Nevertheless, do not upset yourself. Everything is proceeding according to plan."

Ryn looked like she had another smart remark ready, but decided to let the Fairy throw her tantrum first.

"According to plan!" gasped Holly, pointing to the devastation surrounding them. "was this part of the plan? And Butler almost getting killed—all part of the plan?"

"No," Artemis admitted, earning his cousin's attention. "The troll was a slight blip. But irrelevant to the overall scheme."

"Yeah, 'cuz that was _such_ a good idea."

Holly decided to leave the two to their impending argument, turning instead to Butler.

Artemis, likewise, turned to his cousin. "Is there something you wish to say to me Orion?"

The blond girl mock-thought for a moment, tapping a finger on her chin, before answering. "Yeah. Your game is lousy, your talk is cheap, _and my name is Ryn_."

Artemis's gaze was steady, though his eyes were a few degrees cooler than before. For once, their expressions matched.

"You're crazy. All of you! In five minutes you'll all be dust. Don't you realize?"

Artemis sighed, breaking away first and turning back to the hovering fairy. "You've had your answer, Captain. Now, please. This is a delicate stage in the proceedings."

"Proceedings? It's a kidnapping! At least have the guts to call it what it is."

What remained of Artemis's patience after confronting his cousin was beginning to fray.

"Butler, do we have any tranquilizer hypodermics left?"

The giant manservant nodded, but didn't speak.

"Drugging your own family Arty?" Ryn piqued. "We might be related after all."

Artemis was both annoyed and uncharacteristically confused. Annoyed, because of the girl taking up his mother's pet name, and confused because of her erratic mood change and how she could’ve thought the dart was meant for her. However, his attention was diverted by activity in the avenue.

"Ah, it would seem the LEP have capitulated. Butler, supervise the delivery. But stay alert. Our fairy friends are not above trickery."

"Or breaking things," Ryn piqued.

"You're fine ones to talk," muttered Holly.

* * *

"It's the ransom," shouted Butler.

Artemis tried to quell the excitement rising in his chest. This was not the time to allow emotions to enter the equation.

"Check for booby traps."

There was a particularly un-girlish snort behind him. When he turned, Ryn had a hand in the space between her slightly rosy cheeks, her shoulders shaking slightly from bottled laughter.

"What?" he asked.

"Y-you said 'booby'," the girl replied, still giggling.

Both Artemis and Holly looked at her with mirrored expressions of incredulity.

"Hey, I'm 12 and I haven't slept in 36 hours. I'm entitled to some lame humor here."

"No hostiles," Butler called inside. "Seems to be self-propelled."

The trolley lurched over the steps, entering their view.

"Who's driving that thing? A monkey with a keyboard?"

Holly smiled despite herself. Foaly would sulk for weeks.

Butler, however, opted to ignore the girl. Bending low to the ground and scanning the trolley's underside.

"No explosive devices visible."

He extracted a Sweeper from his pocket, extending the telescopic aerial.

"No bugs either. Nothing detectable at any rate. But what do we have here?"

"Uh-oh," said Foaly.

"I call it!" Ryn shouted, jumping in front of the manservant and yanking the coin-sized fisheye lens out by the cable, not seeming to care about the sparks.

While the girl pocketed her new treasure, Butler steered the trolley into the lobby. It stood there humming softly, as though waiting to be unloaded.

Now that the moment had come, Artemis was almost afraid to seize it. It was hard to believe that after all these months, his wicked scheme was minutes away from fruition.

Afraid, until Ryn cleared her throat and he caught her gaze. Expectant. Questioning. _Smug_.

"Open it," he said to Butler, his voice perfectly level.

It was an irresistible instant. Juliet approached tentatively, spangled eyes wide. Even Holly closed the throttle a notch, dropping until her feet brushed the marble tiling. Butler unzipped the black tarpaulin, dragging it back across the cargo.

Nobody said a thing. Artemis imagined that somewhere the _1812 Overture_ was playing. The gold sat there, stacked in shining rows. It seemed to leave an aura, a warmth, everyone was hypnotized.

Everyone that is, except Ryn, who'd never been impressed by shiny things.

"They paid," Holly breathed. "I can't believe it."

"Neither can I," murmured Artemis.

Ryn looked at both of them like they'd suddenly grown a second set of arms. "Wasn't that the _point_?"

At the first syllable, the gold-spell seemingly faded and Artemis was all business again.

"Butler, is it real?" He inquired.

Butler hefted a gold bar from the stack. He dug the tip of a throwing knife into the ingot, gouging out a small sliver.

"It's real all right," he said, holding the scraping up to the light. "This one, at any rate."

"Good. Very good. Begin unloading it, would you? We'll send the trolley back out with Captain Short."

"Artemis, give it up." Holly said, jumping back into her previous argument. "No human has every succeeded in keeping fairy gold. And they've been trying for centuries. The LEP will do anything to protect their property."

Artemis shook his head. Amused.

"I've told you…"

Holly took him by the shoulders. "You cannot escape! Don't you understand?"

Ryn replied suddenly in a similar fervor. "Do we even have a choice anymore?!"

Artemis interjected calmly. "I can escape, Holly. Look in my—"

"Our."

"—eyes and tell me I can't."

So she did. Captain Holly Short gazed into the matching blue-black eyes of her captors, and she saw the truth there. And for a moment she believed it.

"There's still time," she said desparately. "There must be something. I have magic."

A crease of annoyance wrinkled the boy's brow.

"I hate to disappoint you, Captain, but there is absolutely nothing."

Ryn rolled her eyes in an almost exaggerated fashion at the obvious lie, regardless of who it was being fed to. Really, even without the science-y proof, her cousin should know what the fairy was offering him. Hell, if it were her she'd take up the offer in a second.

Okay bad thought, bad thought, think about something else.

Then she noticed Artemis had paused. He was looking up to the second floor to what she could only assume was Aunt Angeline's room, seeming in debate with himself.

She turned to Holly and mouthed 'wait for it…' conspiracingly.

After a second Butler walked by, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder when he saw his expression.

"Everything all right?"

"Yes, Butler. Keep unloading. Get Juliet to help. I need to talk to Captain Short."

"Are you sure there's nothing wrong?"

Artemis sighed, opening his mouth to answer before Ryn cut in.

"He's sure," the blond girl said, holding his shoulder, smiling smugly. "Besides, from here there’s nowhere to go but up."

Butler studied her from his mountainous height with one eyebrow raised.

Artemis turned his head and looked her. Just looked.

Ryn dropped her grasp on her cousin's shoulders, holding up her hands in a placating manner. For a second her smile seemed to look friendly.

Then she sprinted to the still-loaded trolley, hopping onto the handlebar and letting her momentum do the rest.

It glided like a dream.

* * *

Butler was more than a little surprised, Ryn was not at all.

"You gave it back?"

Artemis nodded. No need to talk about the wish. It could be perceived as weakness. Something, based on the look on his cousin’s face, she would prove in the near future.

"Hmm," said Butler, smarter than he looked.

"Now, we should celebrate," enthused Artemis, deftly changing the subject. "Some champagne, I think."

The boy strode to the kitchen before Butler's gaze could dissect him, a suspicious Ryn right on his heels.

By the time the others caught up, Artemis had already filled four glasses with Dom Perignon.

"Remind me, when I can legally drink this?" asked Ryn, pointing to one of the glasses.

"Not for a few years," Artemis replied.

"Should I be worried?"

"No, I'm sure my mother wouldn't mind. Just this once."

Ryn shrugged, half-satisfied. She always thought she wouldn't have her first drink until high school, at the earliest.

Butler felt that something was afoot. Nevertheless, he took the crystal fluke offered to him.

Juliet looked at her big brother.

"Is this okay?"

"I suppose so." He took a breath. "You know I love you, don't you sis?"

Juliet scowled—something else that the local louts found very endearing. She smacked her brother on the shoulder.

"You're so emotional for a bodyguard."

Artemis had unconsciously been watching Ryn's face through the exchange and found himself very surprised at her expression. Her face was blank, not bored just...empty. Her eyes had glazed over and her mischevious grin grew lax at Butler's words. He realized that this was the exact same expression she'd worn since arriving in Ireland three weeks ago. However, it was only seeing her tonight—with her sarcastically chatter and snide yet cheesy sense of humor—did he realize how abnormal the expression looked on her.

The realization, however, was cut short when Butler looked him straight in the eye.

"You want us to drink this, don't you, Artemis?"

Artemis met his gaze squarely. "Yes, Butler. I do."

Without another word Butler drained his glass, Juliet followed suit. The manservant tasted the tranquilizer immediately, and although he would have had ample time to snap Artemis Fowl's neck, he didn't. No need for Juliet to be distressed in her final moments. Besides, Ryn had something of his concern in her possession, and that would likely do little to convince her to relieve it.

Artemis watched his friends sink to the floor before turning to his cousin, would hadn't swallowed a drop of her own drink. Which made sense—she'd watched him pour it. Her face was still in that vacant state, though now one eyebrow was partially raised and her eyes were slightly alight with interest. Abruptly, the expression crumpled like a piece of paper as Ryn chuckled lowly and cracked a small grin. Then the grin widened as Ryn raised her glass in his direction.

"To a relationship well begun, Master Fowl."

Artemis had to admit it was interesting to be on the opposing end of his vampire grin.

He raised his glass to meet her before they simultaneously swallowed the tranquilizer-laced champagne.

The two waited calmly for the drug to take hold. Neither had to wait long, since each dose had been calculated according to body weight. As Artemis's thoughts began to swirl, it occurred to him that he may never awaken again. As he sank into unconsciousness, he remembered his cousin's unanswered question: do we even have a choice anymore?

No. No they didn't.

* * *

Ryn stood next to Butler, leaning over her still-unconscious cousin.

"Can I pour some water on his face?" she asked the man, "might wake him up."

"No."

Ryn knew she probably shouldn't have woken up just seconds after Butler. In fact at her size she should've out slept _all_ of them. But her tiny girl body had a scary fast metabolism, plus she learned that she had some partial resistance to most sedatives when she had her appendix removed at age 3.

"If I find a Sharpie somewhere around here can I draw a mustache on him?"

" _No_."

Ryn assessed the bodyguard for a moment. He was mad at his charge for what'd gone down the previous night. Hell, she was pretty pissed at him too. Again.

"At least let me get a bowl of warm water. Dip his hand in it and—"

" _NO_."

Artemis stirred at their feet, and Butler lost interest in her as his charge's eyes opened. 

* * *

"Artemis. You're awake."

"Finally." Ryn said, reaching down to him. "C'mon, up we go."

Artemis allowed his cousin to haul him to his feet, head spinning from the action. He expected Butler's hand at his elbow to steady him. It didn't come. Juliet was lying on a chaise lounge, dribbling onto the cushions. Obviously the draft hadn't worn off yet. Vaguely, he wondered how Ryn had awoken _before_ him.

"It was just sleeping pills. Harmless."

Both pairs of eyes had a dangerous glint.

"Explain yourself." Butler rumbled.

Artemis rubbed his eyes. "Later, Butler. I'm feeling a bit—"

Ryn grabbed the back of his shirt and jacket, making him choke at the sudden action.

Butler stepped in front of him. "Artemis, my sister is lying drugged on that couch. She was almost killed. So explain yourself now!"

Artemis realized he'd been given an order. He considered being offended, then, upon seeing the look on his cousin's face, decided that perhaps Butler was right. He had gone too far.

"I didn't tell about the sleeping pills because you'd fight them. It's only natural. And it was imperative to the plan that we all go to sleep immediately."

"The Plan?" Butler inquired, Ryn raising a skeptical brow.

Artemis lowered himself into a comfortable chair, his companions followed suit.

"The time-field was the key to this whole affair. It's the LEP's ace in the hole. It's what has made them unbeatable for all these years. Any incident can be contained. That and the bio-bomb make a formidable combination."

"So why did we have to be drugged?" Butler asked.

Artemis smiled. "Look out the window. They're gone. It's over."

Butler and Ryn glanced through the net curtains. The light was bright and clear. Not a hint of blue. Nevertheless, the manservant was unimpressed. "They're gone for now. They'll be back tonight, I guarantee it."

"No. That's against the rules. We beat them. That's it, game over."

Ryn was getting impatient. "Yeah, yeah, you did the math. Give the boy sticker. What was with the pills?"

"Not to be distracted, I see."

"Never was."

"Very well, I had to think of a way to think of a way to escape the time-field. I traveled through the Book, but there was nothing. Not a clue. The People themselves have not yet developed a way. So I went back to their Old Testament, back when their lives and ours were intertwined. You know the stories—elves that made shoes during the night, sprites that cleaned houses. Back when we coexisted to a certain extent. Magical favors in exchange for their fairy forts. The big one, of course, was Santa Claus."

Butler's eyebrows nearly jumped off the front of his face and Ryn's practically vanished into her hairline.

"Santa Claus?"

"As in the guy who got famous from a soda commercial in the 1950's?"

Artemis raised his palms. "I know, I know. I was a tad skeptical myself. But apparently our little corporate-image Santa Claus is not descended from a Turkish saint, or a soft drink campaign. He is a shadow of San D'Klass, the third king of the Frond Elfin dynasty. He is known as San the Deluded."

"Not a great title, as titles go."

Ryn snorted. "Are you kidding me? That's gonna be my new screen name."

Artemis decided to continue. "D'Klass thought that the greed of the Mud People in his kingdom could be assuaged by distributing lavish gifts. He would marshal all the great wizards once a year and have them throw up a great time-stop over vast regions. Flocks of sprites would be sent out to deliver the presents while the humans were asleep."

"Yeah that didn't work," Ryn piqued. "Human greed can't be "assuaged", especially by gifts."

Artemis wondered if there would ever come a day his cousin would _not_ surprise him.

Butler, undistracted, frowned. "What if the humans—"

"We," Ryn corrected.

"Yes, what if we had woken up?"

"Ah yes. Excellent question. The heart of the matter. We wouldn't wake up? That is the nature of the time-stop. Whatever your state of consciousness going in, that's how you stay. You can neither wake up nor fall asleep. You mush have noticed the fatigue in your bones these last few hours, yet your mind would not let you sleep."

Butler nodded. Things were getting clearer, in a roundabout sort of way. Ryn, however, looked like she was about to start drooling. Wordiness bored her—it was a habit she picked up from school back home. And Artemis talked like he was narrating from a math textbook.

"So my theory was that the only way to escape the time-field was to simply fall asleep. Our own consciousness was all that kept us imprisoned."

"In theory," Ryn reminded him.

"Not just a theory. We did have a test subject."

"Who? Ah, Angeline." Butler remembered.

"Yes. My mother. Because of her narcotic-induced slumber, she moved with the natural order of time, unhindered by the time-field. If she had not, I would have simply surrendered to the LEP and submitted to their mind wipe."

"Uh-huh." Ryn said skeptically, "so the drugs were to _make_ us fall asleep and leave the time-field."

"Basically."

"…Would it've _killed_ you to say that twenty minutes ago?!"

Butler put a hand on her shoulder. "You cut it pretty fine, though. Another minute…"

"Agreed." The boy nodded. "Things were tense there at the end. It was necessary in order to double-bluff the LEP."

He paused so that Butler and Ryn could process the information.

"Well, am I forgiven?"

Ryn thought for a moment as Butler sighed. On the chaise lounge, Juliet snored like a druken sailor. The manservant smiled suddenly.

"Yes, Artemis. All is forgiven."

"Great!" Ryn jumped to her feet. "Everybody's friends again. I'm going to bed."

"Didn't you just wake up?"

"Yeah, from a narcotic dream. Before that I'd been up for almost two days _and_ bull-rode a troll. I've earned a nap, wake me for dinner. Or breakfast, I don't really care."

She was almost out the door when she turned back to look her cousin in the eye. "Oh by the way, Butler's given me permission to do a full front tackle on you if you do something like that again."

With that, she was out the door and heading back to her girl-cave in the basement. Of course, she wasn't really tired, she just needed an excuse to get away from the main part of the house. She knew what Artemis would've traded all that gold for, and she didn't want to be around for the big reunion. 

It wasn't as though she didn't like mushy things (even though she didn't), it was that she'd spent _far_ too much time fantasizing her own version of such a scene when she was little. No, she intended to use her "nap" time to plan out the immediate future. With an actual parental-type adult in the house things were going to change for both of them. First of which, she was likely going to get a taste of what Irish middle school was like. But she wasn't worried about that. Though Artemis should be.

Like she said, a boy their age needed friends.

And if she would have anything to do with it, he would have _plenty._


	5. Psychological Assessment

**Book Two: The Arctic Incident**

 

**Artemis and Orion Fowl: A Psychological Assessment**

**From “The Teenage Years”**

 

_By Prof. J. Argon, Brotherhood of Psychologists_

_Commissioned by the Lower Elements Police_

 

By the age of thirteen, our first subject, Artemis Fowl, was displaying signs of an intellect greater than any human since Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. Artemis had beaten European chess champion Evan Kashoggi in an online tournament, patented more than twenty-seven Inventions, and won the architectural competition to design Dublin’s new opera house. He had also written a computer program that diverted millions of dollars from Swiss accounts to his own, forged more than a dozen Impressionist paintings that now hang in various galleries worldwide, and cheated the Fairy People out of a substantial amount of gold.

Meanwhile, our second subject, Orion Fowl, at the same age possessed a similar but significantly underutilized skill set. She has dedicated hundreds of thousands of hours to a range of video games of all types but never competed professionally. She demonstrated great physical skill in the area of gymnastics, and possibly hand-to-hand combat, but has not engaged in the activity since her early childhood. She has shown great talent in engineering and strategic thinking, but mostly only uses them for her own amusement.

At this time, it is worth noting that contrary to popular belief, Artemis and Orion Fowl are, in fact, first cousins, not twins (though the two do share a birthday). And unlike Artemis, Orion appears to have no interest in vast wealth or power. With that in mind, the remaining question is, why? What drove Artemis to get involved in criminal enterprises?

The answer lies with his father. Artemis Fowl Senior was the head of a criminal empire that stretched from Dublin’s docklands to the backstreets of Tokyo, but he had had ambitions to establish himself as a legitimate businessman.

Artemis Fowl Senior had bought a cargo ship, stocked it with 250 thousand cans of cola, and set course for Murmansk in Northern Russia along with his younger brother Demitri and nephew Isaac. There, he had arranged a business deal that could prove profitable for decades to come.

Unfortunately, the Russian Mafiya decided they did not want an Irish tycoon cutting himself a slice of their market, and sank the _Fowl Star_ in the Bay of Kola. Demitri Fowl was killed, along with his son. Artemis Fowl the First was declared missing, presumed dead.

Artemis Junior was now the head of an empire with limited funds, while Orion was parentless and moved from her home in the U.S. due to financial struggles. In order to restore the family fortune, Artemis embarked on a criminal career that would earn him over fifteen million pounds in two short years.

This vast fortune was mainly spent financing rescue expeditions to Russia. Artemis refused to believe that his father was dead, even though every passing day made it seem more likely.

Both of the Fowl children avoided other teenagers and resented being sent to school. Artemis preferring to spend his time plotting his next crime, and Orion her latest means of annoying him.

So, even though their involvement with the goblin uprising during this year was to be traumatic, terrifying, and dangerous, it was probably the best thing that could have happened to them. At least they spent some time outdoors, and got to meet some new people.

It’s a pity most of them were trying to kill them.


	6. The Last 13 Months

As a self-respecting thirteen-year-old, Ryn hated school on basic principle.

But she _REALLY_ hated this school.

Saint Eunice’s School for Young Ladies was one of the top private schools in Dublin, regarded as the unofficial sister school to the neighboring Saint Bartlebys. Angeline herself had attended as a socially-active honor student and graduated as her class valedictorian.

Well, it may’ve been a good fit for her, but it went against everything Ryn stood for.

The girl had immediately disapproved of the institution as soon as she heard they had uniforms. With skirts.

It had only gone downhill from there.

The last several months were spent, on top of her usual mischief, concocting new ways on how to make the accursed uniform more bearable. During that time Ryn grew three inches gained ten pounds of puberty fat, cut her hair so now it only hung half an inch below her chin, and actually colored her hair streaks.

Thus explains how Ryn’s first uniform violation was staining her crisp, white button-down shirt with streams and splotches of cobalt blue dye. It resulted in a mere warning, as the stains were school colors, so no one gave it any real attention until blotches of green and even pink began to appear.

And that was only the beginning. Next up was the skirt, which was first soaked overnight in bleach to wash out the icky white-blue plaid pattern. She then proceeded to drown the remnants out with every naturally-occurring stain imaginable. Ketchup. Soft drinks. Chocolate. Grass. Everything she could get her hands on. And just for good measure she even ripped up the hem and brought the edges to a fray. For this the teachers only glared down at her, but so long as she wore her (ripped) leggings beneath they couldn’t raise any objection.

After that came her navy blue blazer. She would rip holes in the elbows, back, and the ends of the sleeves with her (unauthorized) switchblade just to patch them with random swatches of colorful fabric. The right front side was completely mutilated on the inside to conceal her phone. Any unmarked fabric was quickly covered by plastic and metallic buttons, held in place with superglue.

If that wasn’t enough, Ryn also began writing and doodling on her own exposed arms and calves. Not one of her usual habits, but this was a special occasion.

At this point the school officials began to take offense. Unfortunately for them, a uniform violation was grounds for little else besides detention.

By her third visit Ryn and the supervising teacher were on first-name basis.

Then she graduated to a few pranks she’d picked up from Zak’s brief high school career.

The first was covering all her math teacher’s chalk sticks with clear nail polish. The poor man wasted twenty minutes and a good portion of his pride trying to write on the board with them.

The next was gluing all the chairs in her literature class to the floor. Neither the students nor the teacher could take a seat and class had to be canceled.

Then she escalated.

After three weeks the secretary arrived one morning to see all the fish in the school’s aquarium were replaced with toy floaties and fish sticks.

After two months a swim class walked in to find the contents of the pool had been turned into orange jello overnight.

The school officials knew she was behind every incident. “Who else could it be?” they asked. But Ryn was careful in her mischief, and without proof there was no way to connect her.

At long last the school caught a break, disciplinary-wise, a couple months after the girl’s thirteenth birthday. During which she received a pair of roller blades from Juliet and, after ten weeks of adjustment and practice, decided to use them to help her get to class on time.

With her in clear and obvious violation of a zero-tolerance student safety regulation, coupled with her long-running detention record, Orion Fowl was suspended for five days.

Angeline had every intention of abandoning her trip to Nice to fight the notice, had Ryn not expressed her complacency to spend the time practicing Tai Kwon Do with Butler.

Even so, her aunt insisted that during her “time off” she attend counseling sessions at Saint Bartleby’s. Like with Artemis, she was concerned her erratic behavior and the effect the last two years had had on her.

And that was how Ryn ended up in the waiting room outside Dr. Po’s office on the morning of her first day of suspension. Still in her modified uniform, getting bored out of her mind. Her only hope was that Artemis, was currently in-session with the therapist, could out-babble him into leaving (which was apparently a habit of his). Butler wouldn’t be around to liberate her until her own hour was over, and she had more experience _consulting_ a therapist than being picked at by one.

Her thoughts were cut off when the door curtly opened and Artemis walked briskly out.

“--not over, young man. We made some progress today, even if you won’t admit it. Leave now, and I will be forced to inf--” Dr. Po said from the inside of the adjoining room, his words clipped by the swinging of the door.

In an instant Ryn was out of her seat and after him. If Artemis was walking out on his mom-required counseling it was something important. World-changing, video-worthy important.

And it likely meant she could get out of her own session, which she definitely wasn’t saying no to.


	7. Going Underground

**Saint Bartleby’s School for Young Gentleman**

Butler had been in Artemis Fowl’s service since the moment of the boy’s birth. He had spent the first night of his charge’s life standing guard on the Sisters of Mercy maternity ward. For over a decade, Butler had been teacher, mentor, and protector to the young heir. And though things had changed since Orion’s existence had been revealed when she was moved to the manor, the pair had never been separated for more than a week. Until now. It shouldn’t bother him, he knew that. A bodyguard should never become emotionally attached to his charge: it affects his judgement. But in his private moments, Butler couldn’t help thinking of the Fowl heir as the younger brother he never had. As for Orion, well she got along with and was too much like Juliet for her own good.

Butler parked the Bentley Arnage Red Label on the College Avenue. If anything, the Eurasian manservant had bulked up since midterm. With both Artemis and Orion in boarding school, he was spending a lot more time in the gym. Truth be told, Butler was bored pumping iron, but the college authorities absolutely refused to allow him a bunk in Artemis’s room. And when the gardener had discovered the bodyguard’s hideout just off the seventeenth green, they had banned him from the school grounds altogether. Ryn had been howling for days.

 “Freeeedooom!!” Ryn yelled, practically skipping through the school’s gate.

Artemis followed just a few steps behind her, Dr. Po’s comments still in his thoughts and being aggravated by his cousin’s cries.

“Problems, sir?” said Butler, noticing his employer’s sour expression as Ryn tumbled into the Bentley’s wine-colored leather interior.

Artemis ducked in behind her, selecting a bottle of still water from the bar.

“Hardly Butler. Just another quack spouting psycho-babble.”

Butler kept his voice level. “Should I have a word with him?”

“Don’t bother, if their sessions keep up he’ll be gone by the end of the week.” Ryn quipped, resting her feet on the back of the passenger seat.

Artemis sighed heavily. “What news of the _Fowl Star_?”

“We got an e-mail at the manor this morning. It’s an MPG.”

Artemis scowled. He could not access MPG video files on his mobile phone.

Butler pulled a portable computer from the glove compartment.

“I thought you might be anxious to see the file, so I downloaded it onto this.”

He passed the computer over his shoulder. Artemis activated the compact machine, folding out the flat color screen. At first he thought the battery was dead, then realized he was looking at a field of snow. White on white, with only the faintest shadows to indicate dips and drumlins.

He glanced over to see if Orion had any intention of watching the video over his shoulder, though her sudden silence hadn’t escaped his notice. The girl was staring blankly out the window, her headphones stuffed into her ears and blasting absurdly loud music into the small space.

Looking back to the screen, Artemis felt uneasiness rolling in his gut. Funny how such an innocent image could be so foreboding.

The camera panned upward, revealing a dull twilight sky. Then a black hunched object, in the distance. A rhythmic crunching issued through the compact speakers as the cameraman advanced through the snow. The object grew clearer. It was a man sitting on, no, _tied to_ , a chair. The ice clinked in Artemis’s glass. His hands were shaking.

The man was dressed in the rags of a once fine suit. Scars branded the prisoner’s face like lightning bolts, and one leg appeared to be missing. It was difficult to tell. Artemis’s break was jumpy now, like a marathon runner’s.

There was a sign around the man’s neck. Cardboard and twine. On the sign was scrawled in thick black letters: _Zdravstvutye syn_. The camera zoomed in on the message for several seconds, then went blank.

“Is that all?”

Butler nodded. “Just the man, and the sign. That’s it.”

“ _Zdravstvutye syn_ ,” muttered Artemis, his accent flawless. Since his father’s disappearance, he had been teaching himself the language.

“Should I translate for you?” asked Butler, also a Russian speaker. His accent, however, was not quite so sophisticated. He had picked it up during a five-year stint with an espionage unit in the late eighties.

“No, I know what it means,” replied his young employer. “ _Zdravstvutye syn_ : Hello, son.”

Butler pulled the Bentley onto the divided highway. No one spoke for several minutes, only listened to the vague lyrics of Ryn’s music. Eventually Butler had to ask.

“Do you think it’s him, Artemis? Could that man be your father?”

Artemis rewound the MPG, freezing it on the mysterious man’s face. He touched the display, sending rainbow distortion across the screen.

“I think so, Butler. But the picture quality is too poor. I can’t be certain.”

Butler understood the emotions battering his two charges. He, too, had lost someone aboard the _Fowl Star_. His uncle, the major, had been assigned to Artemis’s father on that fateful trip. Unfortunately, the major’s body had turned up in the Tchersky morgue.

Artemis regained his composure. “I must pursue this, Butler.”

“You know what’s coming next, of course?”

“Yes. A ransom demand. This is merely the teaser, to get my attention. I need to cash in some of the People’s gold. Contact Lars in Zurich, immediately.”

Butler accelerated into the fast lane.

“Master Artemis, I have had some experience in these matters.”

Artemis did not interrupt. Butler’s career before his current charge’s birth had been varied, to say the least.

“The pattern with kidnappers is to eliminate all witnesses. Then they will generally try to eliminate each other, to avoid splitting the ransom.”

“Your point being?”

“My point being that paying a ransom in no way guarantees you father’s safety. If indeed that man is your father. It is quite possible that the kidnappers will take your money and kill all of us.”

Artemis studied the camera screen. “You’re right, of course. I will have to devise a plan.”

Butler swallowed. He remembered Artemis’s last plan. It had almost gotten them all killed, and could have plunged the planet into an interspecies war. Orion’s most recent plan had similar effects, having gotten her entire school evacuated and quarantined for two days straight, and nearly drawing the Fowls into legal complications that could last decades. Butler was a man who didn’t scare easily, but that spark in either child’s eyes was enough to send a shiver crackling down his spine.

* * *

Artemis was bouncing ideas off Butler, a technique he often used when trying to come up with a plan. After all, if anybody was an expert on covert operations, it was his bodyguard.

“We can’t trace the MPG?”

“No, Artemis. I tried. They put a decay virus in with the e-mail, I only barely managed to get the film on disk before the original disintegrated.”

“What about the MPG itself? Could we get a geographical fix from the stars?”

Butler smiled. Young Master Artemis was starting to think like a soldier.

“No luck. I set a shot to a friend of mine in NASA. He didn’t even bother putting it into the computer—not enough definition.”

Artemis was silent for a moment.

“How fast can we get to Russia?”

“You.” Ryn said, apparently more vocal now that the topic had shifted off the _Fowl Star_. “How fast can _you_ get to Russia?”

Butler snickered slightly, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “It all depends.”

“Depends on what?”

“ON how we got, legal or illegal.”

“Which is quicker?”

“I’m going with the one with no screenings or lines.” Ryn chimed. “But, you know, that’s just a guess.”

Butler laughed, something you didn’t hear very often. “She’s right, illegal is usually faster. Either way is going to be pretty slow. We can’t go by air, that’s for sure. The Mafiya is going to have foot soldiers at every airstrip.”

“Are we sure it’s the Mafiya?”

Butler glanced at the rearview mirror. “I’m afraid so. All kidnappings go through the Mafiya. Even if an ordinary criminal managed to abduct your father, he would have to hand him over.”

“Ugghh, why do criminals even have bureaucracies? That’d be the one benefit of becoming one,” Ryn interrupted. “Also, what’s the difference between a mob and a mafia anyway?”

Artemis rolled his eyes. “Wo we will have to travel by sea, and that will take a week at the very least. We could really use some help with transport. Something the Mafiya won’t expect. How’s our ID situation?”

“No problem. I thought we’d go native. Russians arouse less suspicion in Russia. I have passports and visas.”

“ _Good._ What is our cover?”

“What about Stefan Bashkir and his Uncle Constantin?”

“Perfect. The chess prodigy and his chaperone.”

“Alright, so unless Stefan has an older sister no one know about, I’ll be staying home. Doing whatever my unsupervised little heart desires for the next five days.”

Artemis glared at her. “You are not older than me.”

“I’m _taller_ than you, which is better.”

Artemis glared harder before turning back to Butler. “How soon can we leave?”

“Almost immediately. Mrs. Fowl and Juliet are in Nice this week. That gives us eight days. We can mail the school, make up some excuse.”

“I daresay Saint Bartleby’s will be glad to be rid of me for a while.”

“I _know_ Saint Eunice’s is glad I’m gone.”

Butler decided to continue his line of thought. “We could go straight to the airport from Fowl Manor, the Lear jet is stocked. At least we can fly as far as Scandinavia, and we can try to pick up a boat from there. I just have to pick up a few things at the manor first.”

“Yeah I can imagine,” Ryn said as she leaned forward in her seat. “By the way, where do you keep your ‘things’? I already know they’d attract a lot of _attention_ in a room, can you show me?”

“Not if you’ll be left home alone.” The manservant answered baroquely.

“Well, the sooner we leave the better. We’ve got to find these people before they know we’re looking. We can monitor e-mail as we go.”

Butler took the exit for Fowl Manor.

“You know, Artemis,” he said, glancing in the mirror. “We’re going up against the Russian Mafiya. I’ve had dealings with these people before. They don’t negotiate. This could get bloody. If we take these gangsters on, people are going to get hurt. Most likely us.”

“I like and appreciate that you’re attempting to talk up your trip to a frozen wasteland,” Ryn said. “But I’m still staying at the manor.”

* * *

One of the few things Ryn actively studied during her time at St. Eunice’s was the history of the Fowl family. Her dad had never gone into detail about, she guessed that was because he had no interest in it when he was growing up here. Ryn would die before she’d admit to it, but she was fascinated in her family history. Especially when it went back five hundred years further than she expected.

What she’d learned was that the original Fowl castle had been built by Aodhán Fowl in the fifteenth century overlooking low-lying country on all sides. This was a Norman tactic: never let your enemies sneak up on you. Oddly enough, Ryn found the idea therapeutic. Over the centuries, the castle had been extensively remodeled until it became a manor. But all her time with Butler had taught her that the attention to security remained. The manor was surrounded by three-foot-thick walls, and wired with a state-of-the-art security system.

Her family had used deadbolt locks and set of carefully-laid smoke traps she’d set up when she was nine.

Butler pulled off the road, opening the estate gates by a remote control. He glanced back at his employer’s thoughtful face. Ryn understood that look. Being at different schools put her at a disadvantage when it came to finding Artemis friends. Especially since he was…unnaturally stubborn about it.

“We could bring a couple of those fairy blasters,” he said.

Artemis nodded. “Good idea, but remove the nuclear batteries and put them in a bag with some old games and books. We can pretend they’re toys if we’re captured.”

“If that’s your plan you might want to change clothes,” Ryn said. “No way anyone’s gonna believe a thirteen-year-old who wears a black suit plays with toys.”

The Bentley Red Tag crunched up the driveway, activating the ground’s security lights. There were several lamps on in the main house. Ryn had since learned that these were on randomly alternating times.

Butler undid his seat belt, stepping lithely from the Bentley.

“You need anything special, Artemis?”

Artemis nodded. “Grab some caviar from the kitchen. You wouldn’t believe the muck they feed us in Bartleby’s for ten thousand a semester.”

Ryn gaped at him. “Okay. First, what planet are you from? Second, you’d never call that stuff _muck_ if you went to my old school.”

* * *

Ryn was still in the car with Artemis, fiddling with her left shoe while he composed an e-mail on his laptop. The shoes were the one part of her uniform that she hadn’t been able to modify, they were the same brown loafers Aunt Angeline had bought for her all those weeks ago. Ryn wanted to be rid of them ASAP.

She was busy stuffing the pair into her already-overfilling backpack when Butler opened the driver’s door, slipping into the seat after a moment.

Artemis folded his phone into its wallet, Ryn decided to follow suit and put her bag on the floor.

“Captain Short, I presume. Why don’t you stop vibrating, and settle into the visible spectrum?”

Holly speckled into view. There was a gleaming gun pointed at Artemis in her hand.

“Really, Holly, is that necessary?”

Ryn turned her head to look at him, almost in slow motion. “I don’t know whether to smack you for having to ask that question with kidnapping, bodily harm, extortion, and conspiracy to murder under your belt, or be insulted that I don’t get a gun pointed at me.”

“Thank you Ryn,” Holly said.

Artemis sighed, and then smiled persuadingly. “Please, Captain Short, I was young and selfish. Believe it or not, I do harbor some doubts over that particular venture.”

“You’re deeply disturbed if you think that’s the principal difference between 12 and 13.” Ryn piqued.

“And I take it there’s not enough doubts to return the gold?” Holly interjected.

“No,” Artemis admitted. “Not quite.”

“How did you know I was here?”

“You kidding me?” Ryn said, “Butler came back without getting the stuff from the house he went to get, that a red flag all by itself. Plus, he left the car door open for almost ten second, the mark of very bad security, which he’s not.”

“Butler also didn’t conduct his usual bomb check under the car.” Artemis continued, “I also detected a slight haze as you entered the vehicle. Elementary, really.”

Holly scowled. “Observant little Mud Kids, aren’t you?”

“I can’t say for Ryn, but I know I try.” Artemis said, “Now, Captain Short, if you would be so kind as to tell me why you are here.”

“As if you don’t know.”

“That’s probably true,” Ryn continued while her cousin thought. “Though he would never involve me in one of his little schemes, at least not if he knows what’s good for him.”

“Nice try Ryn, but I’m not letting you leave,” Holly replied.

Artemis interjected, “I would guess that something has happened. Obviously something that I am being held responsible for.” He raised an eyebrow fractionally, the most intense expression Ryn had ever seen him make. “There are humans trading with the People.”

“Very impressive,” said Holly. “or it would be, if we didn’t both know that you’re behind it. And if we can’t get the truth out of you, I’m sure your computer files will prove most revealing.”

“I can give you his passwords if that’d help,” Ryn said as Artemis closed his laptop.

“Still not letting you leave.”

“Captain,” Artemis interrupted, “I realize there is no love lost between us—”

“Keep telling yourself that, it can’t possibly make a situation worse.”

“But I don’t have time for this now. It is imperative that you give me a few days to sort out my affairs.”

“No can do, Fowl. There are a few people underground who would like a word.”

Artemis shrugged. “I suppose, after what I did, I can’t really expect any consideration.”

“If you did you’d be even dumber than I initially feared,” Ryn replied, seeming to admit defeat on leaving the car.

Artemis, as usual, ignored her. “Shall we go?” his tone was meek, which automatically got Ryn’s attention. Only he could make meek sound indisputably suspicious.

“Why not?” Holly turned to Butler. “ _Drive south. Stay on the back roads._ ”

“Tara, I presume. I’ve often wondered where exactly the entrance to E1 was.”

“You really need a hobby.”

“Enough,” muttered Holly. “ _You two sleep. All that bickering is wearing me out._ ”


	8. Fowl is Fair

**The Lower Elements, Haven City, Police Plaza, Detention Cell 5**

When Ryn came to she was in an LEP interrogation room. For some reason, she’d always thought that police interviews would be different than ones on TV, but her older brother Zak had assured her they were accurately represented. And Zak was right, everything from the furniture to setup was exactly as she expected.

Root started off. “Okay, Fowl, start talking.”

He and Holly were facing her across a low plastic-topped table. A bright bulb aimed at her face, making her squint.

“ _Damn_ your breath smells bad,” she spat. “How’s that for talking?”

If Root didn’t look irritated already, he was now. “You think this is a game Mud Girl?”

“Hey, you’re the one who didn’t specify,” Ryn retorted, noting her hands were cuffed to the chair. “You want answers? Trying asking an actual question. “

Root made a noise, something like a cross between a groan and a growl. “I don’t have time for this. Foaly! Get over here!”

A figure emerged from the shadows. It had two arms, four legs, and a tail, and looked to be holding a pair of plungers.

“Alright, Mud Girl,” he said. “Try to relax, and this probably won’t hurt much.”

Then the figure stuck the plungers onto her face and everything went black.

* * *

Foaly ran the images of the goblin and the softnose laser through the Retimager. 193 on the first, 201 on the second.

“Another set of negatives. Sorry, Captain, but the Fowls are innocent. Neither of them have even seen a goblin, much less traded with the B’wa Kell.”

“They could’ve mind-wiped them.”

Foaly removed the seals from Ryn’s eyes. “That’s the beauty of this baby. Mindwipes don’t work. The Retimager operates on actual physical evidence. You’d have to scrub the retinas.”

“Anything on the computer?”

“Plenty,” replied Foaly. “But nothing incriminating. Not a single mention of goblins or batteries.”

Root scratched his square jaw. “What about the big one? He could have been the go-between.”

“Did him already with the Retimager. Nothing. Face it, the LEP have pulled in the wrong Mud Men. Wipe ‘em and send ‘em home.”

Holly nodded. The commander didn’t.

“Wait a minute. I’m thinking.”

“About what?” asked Holly. “The sooner we get Artemis Fowl’s nose out of our business, the better.”

“Maybe not. Since they’re already here…”

Holly’s jaw dropped. “Commander. You don’t know the Fowls the way I do. Give either of them half a chance, and they’ll be a bigger problem than the goblins.”

“Maybe they could help us with our Mud Man problem.”

“I have to object, Commander. These humans are not to be trusted.”

Root’s face would have glowed in the dark.

“Do you think I like this, Captain? Do you think I relish the idea of crawling to these Mud Kids? I do not. I would rather swallow live stink worms than ask Artemis Fowl for help. But someone is powering the B’wa Kell’s arms, and I need to find out who. So get with the program, Holly. There’s more at stake here than your little vendetta.”

Holly bit her tongue. She couldn’t oppose the commander, not after all he’d done for her, but asking Artemis Fowl for help was the wrong course of action, whatever the situation. She didn’t doubt for a minute that the human would have a solution to their problem, but at what cost?

Root took a deep breath. “Okay, Foaly, bring them around. And them with translators. Speaking Mud Man gives me a headache.”

* * *

Artemis massaged the puffy skin beneath his eyes.

“Sedative in the seals?” he said glancing at Foaly. “Micro needles?”

The centaur was impressed. “You’re pretty sharp for a Mud Boy.”

“Don’t encourage him,” Ryn warned, deliberately ignoring her irritated red rash under her eyes. “Even a little. We’ll never hear the end of it.”

Artemis ignored her, touching the crescent-shaped nodule fixed above his ear.

“Translator?”

Foaly nodded at the commander. “Speaking in tongues gives some people a headache.”

Ryn rolled up her sleeves as Artemis straightened his school tie. “I see. Now, how can I be of service?”

“What makes you think we need help from you, human?” growled Root around the butt of his cigar.

“Because your distrust for us is so obvious that it’d make no sense to keep us in your secret HQ simply for the sake of wasting our time?” Ryn deadpanned.

Artemis smirked. “I believe Ryn’s correct. If you did not need something from me, we would be regaining consciousness in our own beds, with absolutely no memory of this encounter.”

Foaly hid his grin behind a hairy hand.

“you two are lucky you’re not waking up in a cell,” said Holly.

“Hey don’t lump me in with _him_ ,” Ryn barked. “I didn’t ask to be part of his shit a year ago, and I certainly didn’t want to this time!”

“Language, Ryn,” Butler said.

“Fuck off,” she replied.

Artemis let the exchange play out with a tired expression, this was a script that’d been played countless times. “I shall guess then. There are humans trading with the Lower Elements. And you need Butler to track these merchants down. Close enough?”

The fairies were silent for a moment. Hearing it from Fowl suddenly brought the reality home to them.

“Close enough,” admitted Root. “Okay, Foaly, bring Mud Boy up to speed.”

While the others turned to the screen the centaur was setting up, Ryn sat back in her seat and rest her feet on the table. Relieved to be left out.

The consultant loaded a file from the LEP central server. A series of Network News clips flashed up on the plasma screen. The reporter was a middle-aged elf with a forelock the size of a tidal wave.

“Downtown Haven,” crooned the reporter. “Another contraband seizure by the LEP. Hollywood laser disks with an estimated street value of five hundred ounces of gold. The B’wa Kell goblin triad is suspected.”

“It gets worse,” Root said grimly.

Artemis smiled. “There’s worse?”

“Always,” Ryn said.

The reporter appeared again. This time flames billowed from the windows of a warehouse behind him. His forelock looked a bit crispy.

“Tonight the B’wa Kell have staked their claim to the East Bank by torching a warehouse used by Koboi Laboratories. Apparently the _pixie with the golden touch_ refused to pay their protection fee.”

The flames were replaced by another news byte, this time featuring an angry mob.

“Controversy today outside Police Plaza as the public protests the LEP’s failure to deal with the goblin problem. Many ancient houses have been put out of business by the B’wa Kell’s racketeering. Most heavily targeted have been Koboi Laboratories, who have suffered six counts of sabotage in the past month alone.”

Foaly froze the image. The public did not look happy.

“The thing you have to understand, Fowl, is that goblins are dumb. I’m not insulting them, it’s scientifically proven. Brains no bigger than rats.”

Artemis nodded. “So who’s organizing them?”

Root ground out his cigar. “We don’t know. But it’s getting worse. The B’wa Kell have graduated from petty crime to an all-out war on the police. Last night we intercepted a delivery of batteries from the surface. these batteries are being used to power outlawed softnose laser weapons.”

Ryn’s eyes widened in realization. “Oh and Short thought Arty here was the human on the other end.”

“Can you blame me?” muttered Holly.

“Not remotely.”

Artemis ignored their comments. “How do you know the goblins aren’t just ripping off wholesalers? After all, batteries are rarely under guard.”

Foaly chuckled. “I don’t think you understand just how stupid goblins are. Let me give you an example. One of the B’wa Kell generals—and this is their top fairy—was caught trying to pass off a forged credit card, because he signed his own name.”

Ryn snorted, loudly. Nearly doubling over.

“No, whoever is behind this would need a human contact to make sure the deals weren’t fouled up.” Foaly finished.

“So you’d like me to find out who this human contact is,” said Artemis, cutting off Ryn (he guessed she was going to say something along the lines of “pun intended?”). “And more importantly, how much he knows.”

As he spoke, both the Fowl children’s minds were racing. Both were thinking on how to work this situation to their advantage. Artemis’s plans were on negotiations with mobsters. Ryn’s were on her brothers back in Chicago.

Root nodded reluctantly. “That’s it. I can’t risk putting LEPrecon agents aboveground. Who knows what technology the goblins have traded? I could be walking my agents into a trap. As humans, you three could blend in.”

“Butler, blend in?” smiled Artemis. “I doubt it.”

“At least he doesn’t have four legs and a tail,” observed Foaly.

“Or is the size of a toddler,” Ryn added.

“Points taken. And there is no doubt that if any man alive can track down your rogue trader, it’s Butler. But…”

Here we go, thought Holly. Artemis Fowl does nothing for nothing.

“But?” prompted Root.

“But if you want my help, I will require something in return.”

“What exactly?” said Root warily.

“I need transport to Russia,” replied Artemis. “The Arctic Circle, to be precise. And I need help with a rescue attempt.”

Root frowned. “Northern Russia is not good for us. We can’t shield there because of the radiation.”

“Those are my conditions,” said Artemis. “The man I intend to rescue is my father. For all I know, it’s already too late. So I really don’t have time to negotiate.”

The Mud Boy sounded sincere, and even Holly’s heart softened for a moment. But Ryn’s face remained impassive. And you never knew with Artemis Fowl, this could all be part of yet another scheme. Root made an executive decision.

“Deal,” he said, holding out his hand.

They shook. Fairy and human. A historic moment.

Root raised a suspicious eyebrow at Ryn. “And you?”

The blond girl held up her hands placentally. “I don’t plan on doing anything during all this. And if I do, I’ll just take an I.O.U.”

“fine by me,” said Root. “Now, Foaly, wake the big one and give that goblin shuttle a quick systems check.”

“What about me?” asked Holly. “Back to stakeout duty?”

If Root had not been a commander, he probably would have cackled. “Oh no, Captain. You’re the best shuttle pilot we have. You’re going to Paris.”


End file.
